Boiling Point
by KateThorne
Summary: Sabriel. Sam needs a job, any job, and gets hired as the sous chef to the short tempered, smart mouthed chef, Gabriel. Warnings for sex, minor gore in later chapters and major character death. Fluff and angst.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm back, baby. You can blame this on the fact that I haven't been able to stop watching Kitchen Nightmares since it showed up in my Netflix. **

**A few warnings: no profit, don't own jack besides these sweats and this laptop. M for the man on man touching about to happen up in here. Updates every other day. We're looking at a 3 chapter piece. On a more serious note, warning for major character death in later chapters.**

**ALSO I've been a vegan for three years, so if I fuck up the way you make a fancy... cheese? dish... I don't really care that much. But you can point it out, if you must. **

* * *

Angelo's was the sort of restaurant that could intimidate anyone, Sam consoled himself as he stood on the threshold. It was a nice place to eat, so it'd be a terrifying place to work. That made perfect sense. Sam wasn't being a baby, Sam was being a sane individual. That was all.

He walked in the door. Still before opening, the chairs were stacked on the bare tables, occasionally a blonde and a brunette waitress passed through the dining room, not paying him any mind.

"Sam!" said the enthusiastic voice of the manager. Sam hadn't laid eyes on him since he got the job the day before.

"Oh, Zachariah, hi."

"Excited for the first day of work?" he asked, rubbing his hands together. He pressed on before Sam had a chance to respond, "How are your classes going? Stanford, honestly, a man after my own heart. C'mon, I'll take you to the kitchen. I remember those classes, hard work. Hard, hard work but look what they've got me." Zachaiah gestured around the restaurant. Sam nodded and tried to look impressed. As with his interview, he didn't particularly think that his half of the conversation was necessary.

Sam continued to nod as they came into the kitchen and Zachariah was waxing sentimental about shenanigan's that he had pulled while he was at his alma mater. He deposited Sam in front of a harried looking man in a chef's double breasted jacket already smeared with a red sauce along the sleeve.

"Sam, this is Gabriel." Zachariah said. Gabriel merely glanced up at Sam before turning back to his task. "Don't let him scare you. His bark is worse than his bite." Zachariah said in a light tone, but his eyes stayed on the chef, hard and warning. Gabriel didn't dignify that look with a response.

"Ok, well," Zachariah smiled, "I'll start setting up out there. Wait for the magic to happen."

He drummed on the order counter, earning a look of utter disdain from Gabriel before he slipped out of the kitchen.

Sam stood dumbly where he was.

"I need vegetables sliced for the salad bar and someone to lay these noodles for the lasagna. Then I'm going to need you to roast the garlic for me and take the crusts out of the oven for me before you put the lasagna in. Then just check inventory until we open."

Sam was the only other one it the kitchen.

"Oi, sous chef, that's you." Gabriel said, looking up at him.

"Oh, um right." Sam said, awkwardly stepping around the order counter to the kitchen. He was halfway to reaching cautiously for a zucchini.

"And the hand washing sink is behind you."

Sam blushed all the way up to his ears, but Gabriel wasn't looking so Sam figured it wasn't that bad.

As they prepped, Gabriel had Sam mostly finish the projects that he had already started. Pulling things from ovens, slicing foods, making sure all the shakers were full, the whole while Gabriel was quiet and focused, zipping around the kitchen, moving past Sam without even offering an apology or the occasional, 'excuse me.'

Sam could feel Gabriel watching him out of the corner of his eye, evaluating everything about him, from the way that the chef's jacket was too small on him, revealing the first four inches of his wrist and the buckle of his belt, to the way that Sam moved, too slowly, too clumsy. The feedback Sam was getting from Gabriel's silent evaluation was that he was coming up wanting in a lot of ways.

The delivery door squealed as it was opened and shut and Sam only saw a blur of red hair as a girl sped around the corner, into the office where Sam had seen the other waitresses stash their purses. She came back out, smoothing her hair into a low, serious ponytail, stopping short as she saw Sam watching her.

"Anna, you got to get out there." Gabriel said, appearing silently at Sam's elbow.

"Do you think he'll notice?"

"I don't think he has, but you're working with Ruby _and_ Meg today."

"Really?" Anna's shoulders dropped. Gabriel gave her a sympathetic look.

The kitchen door flung open and the formerly jovial Zachariah was staring daggers at the late waitress.

"Anna, your shift started twenty minutes ago. I need to see you in my office."

"Cool your jets, Zachaiarh." snapped Gabriel suddenly. "I needed Anna to get some tomatoes from the store down the street because the ones you fucking order from that creep with a truck were waxy and complete crap. I've told you this shit a thousand times, you cheap bastard."

Zachariah's face paled then turned red in a matter of minutes. Anna quickly bustled out the swinging door, tying her apron as she went. Sam turned to his task of filling the paprika shakers.

"Gabriel." Zachariah said tightly, "The tomatoes we order from-"

"Are crap. I've told you before that I can't even use them. You'd know if you were here any day besides Friday and showed up early enough to meet the delivery. So, yeah, I asked Anna to get me real tomatoes because I'm not serving people crap so you can save sixty cents."

"I'd appreciate it if you took these complaints to me personally rather than... bark them out where anyone can hear them."

"If I had ten minutes to stand around and do nothing like you do, then, yeah, I'd love to hash this out over tea and biscuits in your office."

"Gabriel-"

"It's six, _boss._" Gabriel all but sneered, "And I'm going to need to start making dinner orders."

As if to prove his point, Meg came into the kitchen, sliding an order slip up and looking meaningfully at Gabriel.

"If you'll excuse me, _sir._" Gabriel drawled, "I actually have a job to do."

Zachariah seemed torn between chastising Gabriel's tone and needing Gabriel in the kitchen. Sam thought that maybe this wasn't the first time he'd struggled with this kind of internal conflict. With a nod of defeat, he stepped away from the shorter chef and went into his office. Gabriel read the order off the slip just as Ruby added another.

"Hey, sous chef, I need you to braise those meatballs before you put them in. You might have to roast some garlic for the sauce. Let me taste it after you do. After they're in the oven-"

"Ahh..." Sam looked dubiously at the tray of meatballs.

Ruby came in with another order, Anna hot on her heels. Meg stuck her head in the door.

"Gabe, baby, appetizers for table three. It's Eve and she looks peckish. You know how she _loves _to express her opinions to management."

But Gabriel was watching Sam, fully now, and there was no mistaking that look on his face. Horror and unmistakable furry. Gabriel shoved Sam out of the way, picking up the brush and painting the meatballs in fast, easy strokes with one hand as he lit the back burner with the other.

"Chop. Can you fucking chop garlic?" Gabriel snapped. Sam nodded quickly and Gabriel snorted before turning back to the order slips and reading the first, wiping his hands on a towel as he went.

"Gabe-" Meg pleaded as she slid another order slip onto the line. "Eve, please, she says something every time I walk by. Friggen Chuck put her near the kitchen _like an idiot._"

"Chuck is an idiot" Gabriel said, slicing peppers and laying them neatly and easily along the plate. "Don't hold it against him." Meg rolled her eyes but smiled at him, taking the tray he handed her.

"Sous, Roast the garlic. Put garlic in the pan." Gabriel barked over his shoulder. Sam did and was met with the terrible smell of something burning.

"OIL." Gabriel barked, "OIL first, for the love of... You don't just throw... It's useless, rinse the pan, give it to me. I'll freaking do it."

"Sorry- I'm..."

"Have you ever worked in a kitchen before?"

Sam was quiet. Gabriel let out an exasperated hiss.

"Have you ever worked at all before?"

Sam was quiet again. Gabriel actually growled and simply pointed to the dish sink as he shoved the ruined garlic pan into Sam's hand.

By the time Sam got back, Gabriel had two orders up on the counter, but there were two more slips than when Sam left.

"Put the meatballs in, watch them for twenty minutes. Then, Jesus, can you make salads? Are you capable of putting lettuce on a plate?"

"Y—yes."

"Good, then, I don't know, stay out of my way. Another freaking college kid." Gabriel rolled his eyes, mumbling to himself as he went.

"Gabriel, table six is getting antsy." Ruby was at the counter, looking past Sam at Gabriel's back as the chef roasted the garlic that Sam had ruined. "They just ordered salads. Fifteen minutes ago. What's the hold-up?"

Sam started tossing handfuls of lettuce on the plate, followed by cucumbers and tomatoes, none of which looked as professional as the plate he'd seen Gabriel send out.

"Well?" Ruby asked.

"Get your thong out of your ass." Gabriel snapped. "We're doing orders as they come. So fuck off."

Ruby made an affronted sound, but left without a counter argument. Gabriel pushed Sam aside, arranging the toppings on Sam's salad in concentric circles.

"Here, just." Gabriel said, tiredly, as Sam tried to copy his plate on the second salad. "Yeah, that's good enough. Put them up."

The rush went like that, Gabriel barking at Sam and then having to pick up the slack anyways, unhappily and seeming increasingly put-upon as the night progressed. But he never yelled at Sam in front of the waitresses and when even Zachariah came in, furious over a complaint about over cooked meatballs, Gabriel was the one who took the blame, yelling at Zachariah about inadequate ovens and stove tops. Zachariah puffed up, but then let Gabriel get back to his job. It seemed to be a defining characteristic of their relationship.

Finally it was ten, the kitchen was closed and Gabriel had shoved a mop into Sam's hand, which he took without question. It seemed only fair, since Gabriel had been working both of their jobs all night. Meg was the first to leave, cashing out her tips and walking, unafraid, down the dark streets to god-knew-where. Ruby disappeared, but no one seemed surprised or even angry about that until it was just Sam, Anna and Gabriel.

"I'm walking Anna to her car." Gabriel said over his shoulder, a cigarette tucked behind his ear, his chef's coat unbuttoned and flapping against his tank-top clad chest. Sam knew what that meant. It meant that Sam needed to hurry up, because everyone was going home and Gabriel was the one with the key, i.e. the one who was stuck waiting for Sam to finish.

Sam worked alone for a few minutes before he went out to the alley to dump the mop water.

"You know, I can fire you too." Gabriel's voice chimed. Sam started. "Oh, did I scare you?"

The nicotine on his voice made him sound lazy and the only real light in the alley was from his cigarette. It glowed brighter as he took a drag, making his brown eyes looked fiery gold, sinister and knowing as they were the only thing Sam could see in the darkness.

"A...a little." Sam allowed. "I figured you were, still ...saying goodbye... to Anna."

"You thought we were making out." Gabriel guessed. Sam shrugged. It wasn't any of his business. "You think she and I are fucking?"

This was getting out of hand and Sam felt like Gabriel knew it. He felt like Gabriel welcomed it. Gabriel exhaled his lungful of smoke, it swirled, invisible in the dark up to Sam. He could taste the burnt tobacco on his tongue. Sam stepped away as far as the alley would allow, but this was the first time Gabriel was talking to him, the first time he'd seen the man standing still. He wasn't about to walk away because Gabriel spoke too vulgarly, and too intimately for Sam's comfort.

"Are you going to fire me?" Sam asked. Gabriel sighed.

"No, freaking moose, no I won't. But read a cook book, something. Please. I can't even believe that Zachariah hired you."Another drag on his cigarette, another flash of his face, distorted by shadow and light. "That's a complete lie. I know why he hired you. Because he _likes _you and he thinks a monkey could do my job. Man's never worked a day in his life. Inherited the restaurant from his dad and since he went to some, friggen, stick-up-your-ass college and got an expensive piece of paper, he thinks he's Gordon Ramsey. But his Dad, Michael, he liked me. He understood what I did and made sure that I got some of the restaurant too. Knew that Zachariah would pummel it into the ground if given half a chance. His tomatoes are shit, by the way. I wasn't lying. I mean, Anna was late again and she was probably blowing her boyfriend, not getting tomatoes, but Zachariah's are crap."

Sam felt Gabriel's eyes on him, almost pitingly.

"Zachariah hires college kids a lot. You're not the first. But, uh, those other guys didn't leave. He will fire you. He has to put up with me, but you... he's fickle and he's volitile. He likes that you remind him of himself. But as much as he loves himself, he hates himself too. And he'll turn on you, just like he did to all the others."

"Please." Sam murmured, "I need this job, a job, so bad. I'll do anything."

"C'mon, Sam." Gabriel said, resigned, flicking the butt of his cigarette down the alley and walking back into the kitchen. Gabriel was much less unsettling under the harsh lights of the kitchen. He came out of Zachariah's office with a book. The pages were thick with oil and grease, but Sam could read them ok. "Learn something before you set the place on fire."

"Thank you." Sam said softly, tucking the book against his chest.

* * *

Sam went home that night and headed straight for his kitchen, propping the book open on the counter. Then he started a pot of coffee; Sam wasn't very good at cooking or plating, but he was very well versed in studying. So that was what he did. All night.

He had work at four, and went to sleep around six am. Maybe it was the stress or the caffene. All of Sam's dreams were about a kitchen and glowing eyes, lit by a lone cigarette in a dark alley.

He dreamed that he was lying open on a counter, his chest cracked open for everyone to see. And then, thankfully, someone put him back together with easy, practiced hands. Arranging him in concentric circles then shutting him up and sending him on his way.

* * *

Gabriel was smoking when Sam walked up that afternoon, he came in through the back door in the alleyway. Gabriel watched him, smirking when Sam got close enough.

"He came back." Gabriel said, half admiring half condescending. He wasn't so intimidating in the full light and he seemed smaller without the boxy chef's uniform.

Sam looked down at him before offering the book out. Gabriel held his cigarette between his lips as he took the book with both hands.

"Ask me how to make something." Sam said. Gabriel crinkled his brow.

"Pesto."

"It can be something harder than-"

"Pesto." Gabriel repeated.

"Basil, garlic, Parmesan, walnuts, pepper to taste. Mix together with olive oil to create a paste."

If Gabriel was surprised, he didn't show it. His face remained stony as he looked Sam over again.

"Manacotti."

"Ricotta, mozzarella, two eggs and parsley, mix in a medium bowl. Wrap in pasta and bake at 350."

"Meatballs."

"Ground beef, Parmesan, basil and bread crumbs. Combine and divide, bake at 400."

"Ok." said Gabriel, maybe a bit of pride in the corner of his eye. Gabriel looked down the alley so Sam didn't get a chance to see. "The special of the day today is our Italian Vegetable quiche."

"Oh. I don..." Quiche wasn't in the recipe book. Sam had read that thing cover to cover, thirty little recipes in Gabriel's cramped hand writing and no quiche.

He still couldn't shake the feeling that he had failed the test of some sort, and Sam had never failed a test before in his life.

"It's _my _special quiche and I don't give that shit away to anyone. Now get in there and make some new pesto." Sam hesitated, and Gabriel exhaled a mouthful of nicotine with the corners of his lips curled up into a half smile. "You did good, kiddo. Now scram and don't set the place on fire."

Sam's second day at work was much better than his first, at least for the first hour. He'd made pesto, so he'd figured he could conquer the world. Gabriel went so far as to trust him to keep an eye on the delicate quiche crusts while they were in the oven. Once or twice, Gabriel even looked away from him, expected that he could not epically fuck up whatever was in his hands. So Sam took that trust and ran with it, every minute he was earning Gabriel's trust, inch by inch. And Sam wanted it. Sam wanted Gabriel to like him.

Then came the dinner rush and once again, Sam was pushed aside as Gabriel took over his station, working for two. He was nicer about it, though. He called Sam an incompetent moose three times, but it was kinder than the day before.

"Gabriel, honey," it was Meg, peeking through the order slips and the plated food. "Joshua's here. He want's the special."

"'course he does." Gabriel said. He turned to look over his shoulder, "Hey, Sam, where did you put the crusts to cool?"

Sam's face fell. His stomach dropped and Gabriel cursed softly, dropping his face into the crook of his elbow. Sam leapt across the small kitchen space, throwing open the oven door and being greeted with the smell of burning food in full blast.

Meg watched from across the ticket counter, a disbelieving laugh on her face. Gabriel just shook his head and flicked his wrist, sending her out.

Some part of Sam's brain hadn't comprehended, something delusional that he had thought he had forgotten, an idea he long since abandoned. It wasn't over. It wasn't ruined. It couldn't be, there was no possible way he had fucked up so largely in a way that couldn't be fixed. He grabbed the tray and hissed at his own stupidity as it sizzled into his hand.

"Hey, _hey, _idiot, what the fuck are you-" Gabriel cut himself off as he looked up into Sam's face, grabbing a towel and taking the hot tray from the frozen sous chef. "Hey, uh, Sam. It's ok. It's quiche."

Sam was shaking. It wasn't about the quiche and Gabriel seemed to see that immediately. Gabriel tore his eyes away, dropping the inedible tray.

"Shit." Gabriel muttered, and when Sam looked up, Gabriel was looking at the swinging door. Sam recognized the balding head of Zachariah, aiming straight for them. Sam was having a deer in the headlights moment, so, thankfully, Gabriel grabbed his arm and shoved him toward the walk in fridge. "Just pull yourself together, kid." and then Sam was in the dark. The cold was just beginning to bite into his skin, most noticeably along his cheeks. Tears. He was crying. He hadn't realized. He heard the swinging door open and close.

"Meg has some very _interesting _news about the special tonight." Zachariah's voice; level and dangerous.

"Not happening. I burnt the crust and we don't have time to make a new batch to serve the dinner crowd. Better luck next week. If they ask for the quiche, push them towards the capponata. We're trying to get rid of that."

"Gabriel-"

"It's a kitchen. I burn things. It happens. I fucked up, and I'm sorry but there isn't any reason for you to look like someone twisted that stick up your ass."

"You _cannot _talk to me like that."

"I have other orders to prepare." Gabriel dismissed him.

"Gabriel, where is Sam?"

"Taking his ten. I'm not his keeper."

"Who was responsible for this?" Zachariah's voice was so soft and dangerous that Sam almost didn't hear.

"I _just _told you that it was me."

"Yes, but, Gabriel, you lie."

"Unless you want to make this antipasti, I'll need my kitchen to work."

"It's not _your _kitchen, Gabriel. It's mine. You are here because of a loophole in a contract and some sort of obligation to my father. You forget that. A lot. That special comes out tonight or you're going to be let go."

"If you fire me, this place will be under in a week."

"I guess we'll have to see."

"I'll put in my two weeks, then. Right now. Fuck you, Zachariah. I'll stay long enough to train someone new, but then, fuck you straight to hell you smarmy dick"

"You can just leave now, save me the headache."

There was a pause, then Gabriel spoke again, his voice lower, almost chastised.

"Joshua comes in a lot. He's a good guy. And these orders aren't going to make themselves. If I let you back here you'll start a fire or poison someone. I'll finish my shift and I'll train someone new. Then, we're done. Zach. You finally got rid of me, just like you always wanted."

The door swung closed again, then came the sounds of dishes in the kitchen being moved, orders being prepared. Sam wanted to move, he did. He didn't want to be trapped here, in the dark with that memory of the last time he ruined something, broke it beyond repair.

But just as it had, every time before, it had started playing in his head. Slow motion, excruciating in clarity. Over and over like a broken record. And Sam didn't have it in him to stop it, cut the memory off and shake himself out of it because it felt rude, wasteful, even to destroy that memory. That one last memory.

So he stayed in the dark and shivered for several reasons, only one of them being the cold.

* * *

"Hey, Sam?" Gabriel's voice came through the door. "You feeling better, kiddo?"

"Yeah, I just need another minute."

"It's been forty five of those. Can I help at all?"

"Um, maybe just another..."

"Sam, I'm coming in, don't strangle me or anything, ok?"

The door opened, letting in a flash of bright light like a halo around the chef's head. Sam was still a bit disoriented when Gabriel grabbed his bad hand, holding it toward the light. The skin on his hand was already beginning to blister. Gabriel let out a 'tut' sound and held up a bag of ice to the burn. Sam hissed but let him. He had grown numb to the cold in the freezer, and he welcomed the warmth of him. He fought the urge to move closer.

"You want to talk about it?"

"About what?"

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "About that full on PTSD face you gave me back there. Are you ok, Sam?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine. It's over. Was being stupid."

Gabriel didn't say anything, beginning to wrap Sam's hand.

"Gabriel? Are you really... going to quit?"

"Doesn't look like I have much of a choice, does it, kiddo?" Gabriel smiled dryly. "I'll do exactly what I've always done and be just fine."

"Why didn't you just tell him the truth? I fucked it up... if he was going to fire someone..."

"You need this job. And I've been needing to rid my life of Zachariah for a while. It was perfect timing."

"You're lying." Sam said softly, "You're lying."

"Maybe. But it's rude to say so. So don't say it."

Sam lowered his head, brushing his lips clumsily against Gabriel's jaw. Gabriel jerked back, looking him over with hard eyes. Sam felt his face burn. He didn't think it was possible for him to humiliate himself more today than he already did.

Gabriel's hand cupped around the back of Sam's neck, pulling him down, then Gabriel's mouth was against him again, kissing like he meant it. And Sam kissed him back, taking in the warmth of it all; his body, his mouth his hand on his neck like it would sear there, his bad hand held awkwardly to the side so that he could move closer to Gabriel, press them together from stomach to knees. Maybe Sam had lost his mind, still shaking from that memory of that night, just as fresh, maybe even worse without the blanket of shock to hide under.

Maybe he needed to feel a connection to a real person, a living person and a physical one was better than none at all.

Or maybe Sam felt sorry for the older man, and the kiss was a way to justify the sacrifice that Gabriel made.

Gabriel's tongue was in his mouth, suddenly, and Sam's good hand came up to pull him closer, squeezing the small of his back so that the importance of the kiss skyrocketed. Gabriel moaned, a real, erotic, porn-esque moan and Sam swallowed the sound, suddenly feeling hot all over. He shifted his hips and made his arousal evident.

Gabriel finally broke away, his cheeks and nose pink from the cold, but his lips were shiny and red. His breathing labored, Gabriel quirked an eyebrow and experimentally reached forward, stroking his palm over Sam's hard-on. Sam's eyes fell to the back of his head, his hips, on instinct, rolling up to the pressure.

Gabriel pulled his hand away, looking at Sam and then running his hand through his hair.

"Fuck, kid. The fuck are we doing?"

Sam didn't have an answer.

There were voices in the kitchen, Meg and Ruby.

"-Zachairah's been a real pill all night. Wonder what Gabriel said to get him all wound up like that." Meg's voice carried, unaware of who would hear there conversation.

"Where is that little asshole anyway? Joshua loved that pesto plate he gave him. Wanted me to compliment the chef."

"Not here. Maybe taking Anna to her car?"

"Hmm."

"What exactly do you mean by that 'hmm'?" Meg purred coyly.

"I mean-" and then there was silence. Next to him, Gabriel rolled his eyes. Sam was momentarily confused before there was a wet sound, then the soft smack of lips being pulled apart.

"Zachariah would flip if he saw us making out in the kitchen." Ruby said, but not like she was really concerned.

"Again."

"Your place or mine?"

"You've still got the-?"

"Yeah, I've still got the..."

"Yours it is then."

"Wanted to say something to Gabriel," Ruby sighed again, but it turned breathy as Meg convinced her.

"He'll be here tomorrow. And the next day and the next. He'll outlive all of us and still be here, making quiche for our great grandchildren."

"Poor bastard, your kids will be the spawn of Hell." Ruby teased.

"Damn right." Meg purred, and then, after an eternity, they left, the door creaking loudly behind them.

Gabriel reached forward, letting him and Sam out of the walk-in fridge and into the harsh light of the kitchen. He walked away from Sam, throwing the bandage wrapper and the, now lukewarm, compress into the trashcan. He didn't look up at Sam, but Sam couldn't seem to look at anything besides him.

"So," he said, "Meg and Ruby are.."

"Gay for each other, yeah." Gabriel said, fidgeting with the shelves over the kitchen counter. Sam realized suddenly that Gabriel was _unsure_.

"I'm not gay." Sam blurted. Deciding to just start yelling and pointing at the elephant in the room.

"Oh." Gabriel said flatly, looking up at him. "I am."

"Oh."

They stood for a moment before Gabriel handed Sam the mop again, then headed outside, patting his pockets for his pack of cigarettes.

The repetitive task in the unforgiving florescent lights, wiping over cracked kitchen linoleum over and over again did nothing to soothe Sam's nerves. For some reason, all the light, sharpening his senses, started bringing memories of the dark to the forefront of his mind. The smell of iron. The slippery feel of a steering wheel under his hand. Squinting into a rearview mirror. Wrapping his hands in warm hair, pulling a smaller, but like body against his own.

Gabriel was still in the alley, halfway through a cigarette while three butts littered the concrete around him. Sam dumped the mop water and turned to Gabriel. Gabriel watched him for a moment, hawk eyes lighting up as he took a drag, flicking the half smoked cigarette away, reaching up, just as Sam stepped forward, and dragging Sam's face down to his, licking the seam and forcing his way in.

Sam braced himself against the hard wall, trapping Gabriel between his arms, kissing for all he was worth, like he'd never want to breathe fresh air again.

Gabriel's hands were at his pants and Sam didn't stop him.

He only murmured, "Please, don't stop." when Gabriel's hand fisted around him and tugged with easy, practiced strokes.


	2. Chapter 2

Gabriel was in the kitchen when Sam came to work the next day. Sam flexed his own hand unconsciously as it buzzed with the phantom memory of the night before. Gabriel had covered Sam's fist with his own hand when Sam reached between his legs to return the favor. Sam could still hear Gabriel's breath shuddering on his chest.

It had been the soundtrack to his dreams of bent metal and hot blood on asphalt that wouldn't wash off.

He offered Gabriel the cookbook that he had taken three nights ago. Gabriel glanced at the book, then Anna who was wrapping silverware in napkins, too far away to hear them.

"This is your handwriting." Sam guessed. "You're going to need it back."

"No." Gabriel said, shrugging and turning away. He was astoundingly good at avoiding Sam's eyes when he wanted to. "You will need it more. You think Zachariah is going to hire someone new? He's going to wait for me to come back with my tail between my legs. Which means, this is going to be all you. Congrats, kiddo, you just got a promotion."

"Will you? Come back?" Gabriel took a deep breath and cast around the kitchen as though the answer would be written along the chipped ceiling tiles. Gabriel looked so tired by it all. Sam pressed on,"Why are you here, then? Plenty of people in your job would just not show up, get their last paycheck in the mail. "

"I can't do that"

"Why? If Zachariah is as much of an ass as you say-"

"Because I can't just_ leave _you to fend for yourself. He'd fire you in a heartbeat. And you need this job."

"That's not your problem." Sam said softly. Gabriel didn't meet his eye.

* * *

The rush was slower on Sunday night than it was on Friday and Saturday, so Gabriel stood at Sam's shoulder and instructed him. A surprisingly patient teacher, considering the fact that Gabriel had said 'fuck' 'imbecile' 'asswad' and 'deush nozzle' within the first three hours of Sam's shift on Friday. This night, Gabriel explained things twice, in a slow, flat tone. He did take four cigarette breaks, though, which Sam assumed was fair enough.

At close, that night, Gabriel took the mop for himself, but Sam took it back from him. Gabriel wasn't looking at him, and Sam wanted him to. Sam wanted all of Gabriel's attention on him. He wanted Gabriel's hands on him, opening him up and seeing every centimeter. He took the mop from Gabriel's hand, his fingers running over Gabriel's on the handle.

"Come home with me tonight." Sam said, surprised with how sure he sounded. He hadn't taken anyone home, not for quite some time. Gabriel didn't ask the question that Sam could read in his eye, but he nodded his consent.

The took separate cars, Gabriel following Sam in a beat up Honda. Sam watched Gabriel's head lights in his rearview mirror and wondered why he didn't feel freaked out about what he was obviously doing. There was no doubt in anyone's mind about Sam's intention of bringing Gabriel home with him; beers and hands in places that no one else would ever know. Deliberately deciding to carve out a memory with this man, this _stranger._

The _stranger _who had already seen Sam at his most vulnerable, locked in a fridge and in his own head. The stranger who had put his neck out for Sam, taken the heat for his own carelessness. If Sam was honest, it was almost like an out of body experience. More than wanting to be touched, more than being horny beyond comprehension, Sam just wanted _it _to happen.

Sex. With a man. With his boss. Maybe a little bit just for the experience of it all; proving that he could still have experiences. His life hadn't ended that night.

They got to his place just in time; before Sam could talk himself out of it. Before Sam saw Gabriel's headlights vanish, as the older man, the chef, turned around and gave the whole thing up. Maybe Sam was using Gabriel to prove something to himself and the world.

But Gabriel never turned around, he stayed right behind Sam's car, the whole way there.

Sam wondered what Gabriel was trying to prove and to whom.

* * *

Gabriel stood tentatively in his apartment.

"I'm thirty seven." he said softly, as Sam handed him a beer. "I'm thirty seven and I'm gay. What the am I doing here?"

Sam didn't answer, Gabriel didn't need him to. Instead, Sam turned and went to his bedroom. After a moment when he got there, he took off his shirt. He took off his shoes as well, kicking them toward the closet, where they thumped loudly around the room. He was unbuckling his belt when Gabriel followed him, standing at the foot of Sam's bed, still holding the beer bottle.

Naked, Sam got onto the bed, scooting forward and tentatively touching Gabriel's thigh. Gabriel was still fully clothed, still in his pants that were a little oily from the kitchen.

"Do you want...?" Sam asked, in case his preposition, naked and waiting on the bed, wasn't clear enough.

"Yes."

"Ok." Sam said softly, pushing Gabriel's shirt up a few inches from his pants, kissing the skin there. He felt Gabriel shudder, then put the bottle back to his lips, drinking the rest of it in fast, deep swallows. Sam's hands felt clumsy as he unbuckled the chef's clothes. He felt a tentative hand in his hair, and he looked up to meet Gabriel's gaze.

"Jesus, what the hell is happening? You're beautiful and I... I have no idea...You said you weren't gay."

Sam shrugged.

"Is this about your job? Is that it? Are you thanking me? Say something, Sam. Before we do this, I need you to say something. I know why I'm here, kiddo. What are you doing?"

"I don't know why I'm attracted to you." Sam said finally, watching his hands slide under Gabriel's shirt. Gabriel hissed and tensed under his roaming fingers, but he didn't pull away. Gabriel made a pained expression and sighed as Sam found the hard nubs of his nipples, trembling and pressing himself into Sam's touch, even as his face was a mask of wary resignation, like Sam would change his mind and pull away at the las minute. Sam wasn't going to turn away, not anytime soon, not before... "I haven't been attracted to anyone for a very long time. You take care of everyone at work, but no one realizes. No one but me. I watch you. I want you to take care of me too."

"I can do that." Gabriel said "How far do you want to take this?"

"Everything. I want to do... all of it."

Gabriel gave a serious nod and looked toward the door to the bathroom. Sam got the hint and stood, heading in to find the lube he stashed in there. As an after thought, he grabbed a condom. Gabriel was naked, sitting on his bed, when he got back and it was all so very _real _to Sam. The quiet of the apartment suddenly made them seem even more naked than before. Sam wasn't having an out of body experience anymore. He was suddenly very aware of himself and the other body, the other flesh that was out in the open. The whole night, he had been waiting for the morning, the morning after he had sex with a man, the morning after he had sex with his boss, the morning after he proved that he could still be someone else if he wanted.

But now Sam was confronted with the night he touched Gabriel. He wanted it to last a while, at least, there was so much to _do. _

Gabriel was on his bed, his body modest and not unlovable. He had a small, old tattoo on his ribcage, too far away fro Sam to make out the design. Sam unconsciously thought of his own tattoo on his chest, the star and the flames, the flash tattoo from his eighteenth birthday...

Sam pulled himself out of his head.

Gabriel quirked an eyebrow at Sam as he stood and looked at him, obviously asking if Sam had changed his mind. Sam answered him by climbing into the bed, bracketing his arms on either side of Gabriel's hips, leaning in and running his eyes over every inch of skin as he got closer to Gabriel's lips.

He placed the lube on the bed, but the condom on Gabriel's thigh.

Sam placed a few open mouthed kisses on Gabriel's neck, canting his hips upward and Gabriel got the idea.

They moved on the bed, an awkward dance of knees and balance before Gabriel was behind him, running a hand softly over his ass, mapping out every muscle with his thumb, finding the crack and tracing his hand down there, his finger gently tugging at the puckered hole as he ran a hand down it.

Sam spread his legs further, giving him more access.

"It'll feel a little weird." Gabriel advised, and a slick finger breached Sam, making him gasp and squirm. Gabriel held him in place with his palm on his back. It was a feeling of fullness that Sam had certainly experienced before, but only under drastically different situations.

He gasped into the bed, a chuckle making it past his lips before he could think to stop it. When he looked back over his shoulder, Gabriel was smiling too. And Sam realized that Sam he seen him smile, not at work where Zachariah was breathing down his neck. He wondered what Gabriel was like with his friends, with his family.

Then Sam thought of how easily Gabriel had followed him home and felt twin pangs of sadness and an almost scary sort of instant connection to that.

Gabriel was being so careful with him, stretching him out. Only sparingly, Sam would feel a pinch of pain, a small pull on the muscle.

"I want that." Sam murmured the next time it happened. "I want it to hurt, a little."

"Of course you do," Gabriel smiled, sliding a second finger in. Sam keened, rolling his back as the blissful burn that shot fire down his whole body. "That's my boy." Gabriel purred as Sam trembled. Gabriel gave a sudden, hard push into his body, and Sam realized that he was all the way at the hilt of his fingers, moving around inside him looking for-

Sam let out a cry as Gabriel found it, pressing over the unknown source of Sam's absolute pleasure.

When Sam looked back over his shoulder, Gabriel was downright smirking as he picked up a rhythm, finger fucking Sam ruthlessly.

"You can..." Sam managed. He wanted Gabriel inside him while it still hurt a little, he wanted a fuck that he would feel for days, just in case this was the only time Sam ever got to be with another man. A small voice popped up into his head, maybe he wanted it to hurt, just in case this was the only time he was with _this _man.

But Sam was trying to stay out of his head and that thought didn't matter anyway.

"If you say so." Gabriel said lightly, his fingers slick and shining as he pulled them from Sam's body and reached for the condom.

"I've never... with a guy... haven't with a girl for a while... you can. I mean, I trust you if you say you're... clean... you don't have to."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

"I always hated condoms with my girlfriend, so, you know, if you hate them too..."

Gabriel shook his head, "Kid, you have even less of an idea than I do."But Gabriel put the unopened condom back on the bed, stroking his cock a few times, wetting it. "You should never just _trust _people. Especially not horny old men with hard ons."

But then Gabriel started sliding his way inside of him, bareback, rubbing greasy, lube and god-knows-what-else along his thigh as he soothed him while Gabriel's dick wormed into him, centimeter by excruciating, excellent centimeter.

"Oh, god, oh, god." Sam murmured, into his pillow. As he lifted his head, he heard Gabriel murmuring the same thing.

"Oh, god, oh, god, you're taking it so well, Sam. So, _fucking_ well."

Gabriel stilled as his cock was halfway into Sam's body, Sam looked over his shoulder, widening his stance to give Gabriel a little more room. Gabriel's hand moved from his hip to Sam's neglected cock, stroking it to its fullness. Sam's body tensed and rolled with the movement, winning a breathy groan from Gabriel behind him. Gabriel rocked his body against Sam's and Sam braced his weight on his arms as he took it.

Again and again, Gabriel pulled in and out of his body, _fucked _him, joined with him, moved with him. After the drag of Gabriel's cock against his walls was easier, Sam rotated his hips, seeking more friction, looking for Gabriel behind him. He must have done something right, because Gabriel was panting behind him, speeding up and grabbing desperately at any part of Sam's back and hips he could find.

"Sam..." Gabriel warned.

"Go ahead, do it. Come inside me, want to know what it's like."

"Jesus," Gabriel moaned, and Sam felt Gabriel's body lock behind him, before he felt something warm and slippery down the backs of his thighs, sliding out of him as Gabriel did. Sam felt the emptiness like a vacuum, he clenched himself as he felt lube and come and everything else threatening to come out of him.

"Flip over," Gabriel murmured, rolling Sam's tense body over. Sam went compliantly, if trembling. Gabriel started sliding down his body, kissing as he went. He settled his face between Sam's legs.

"Wait." Sam yelped, "Wait, I'm not sure if I'm ready for... "

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, stroking Sam's knees soothingly. Sam clenched his hole tighter.

"Felching" Sam whispered.

Gabriel choked out a laugh, shaking his head.

"Thank god, because me neither. People, ah, well, people _I've_ been with don't actually do that."

"Really?" Sam sighed.

"I'm dirty, baby. I'm not _that_ dirty."

"Oh, ok."

Gabriel slid his hand along Sam's dick, leaning his head forward, making his intention clear.

"Just going to take care of you Sam, not reinventing the wheel over here."

Gabriel descended on the head of Sam's shaft and Sam felt his whole body seize up. He ran a hand into Gabriel's hair, as the older man worked him in long, savoring strokes of his tongue.

Sam was so keyed up that he came after a couple of minutes, stroking the thumb of the hand that was tangled in Gabriel's hair. Gabriel helped himself to a corner of the sheet of Sam's bed, wiping him clean.

"So, does this mean I'm gay, now?" he asked. He meant it as a joke.

Gabriel looked up his body at him.

"Do you want to be gay?"

"That shit isn't a choice."

Gabriel shrugged. "I mean, you can choose to not act on your attractions, not find someone who fulfills you in that way. Die alone or live a life where no one ever fully understands you, which might actually be worse. It isn't a very good choice, but it's a choice."

"Was that your choice?" Sam asked softly. "Why are you single, Gabriel?"

"What makes you think I'm single?"

"You let me kiss you. You came home with me. You're not the worst person I've ever met, so why are you alone?"

"I wasn't alone, not for a long time. Then, suddenly I was." Gabriel gave a shrug. "I sucks, probably the worst day, week, year of my life but, there it is. Guess I don't get out enough to meet someone new. Don't mind being alone, though. Not really."

"Did... he... break up with you?"

"No." Gabriel said softly, sitting up and seeming more interested in Sam's belly button than his eyes. "He died."

"I'm so sorry." Sam said, "How did he-"

"You ask a lot of questions, you know that?" Gabriel snapped. "Talking about it... it doesn't _fix _anything. He's still gone and it still doesn't matter how I feel about it because he's _dead. _You wouldn't get it, you'd just _listen _and it doesn't matter. You don't have to listen."

"I know." Sam said, eyes watering. "I know exactly how it is. My brother died."

"Oh, Sam." Gabriel sighed, turning and opening his arms enough to let Sam bury himself in Gabriel's chest. A sob, gut wrenching, cut out of him. Sam wished so much he could be as strong as Gabriel was. Sam couldn't even get through the whole word, 'brother' before he was crying. Before he was hearing metal and glass and thinking, '_not yet, not YET.' _But no one listens to those prayers. "Shhh, Sam." Gabriel whispered, and Sam realized that he was being rocked back and forth in the arms of a man almost twice his age. He knew how it looked and he'd heard enough in his intro to psychology course to know that it meant something, he just didn't care because Gabriel was stroking his hair. No one had done that since Dean...

Sam let loose another sob as Gabriel kissed his forehead, shushing him.

"'m sorry_."_ Sam mumbled into Gabriel's somewhat fleshy middle. "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't..."

"No, kid. You should. You should talk about it and cry about it to anyone who would listen. I... I didn't have anyone who wanted to listen, so I told myself I didn't need it anyway. You don't want to be like me, kid. Set your goals higher than _me_._ "_

"I would have listened." Sam said. "I wanted to listen to you."

"Well, you're the first. I got defensive."

"How did he die, Gabriel?" Sam asked again. "I really want to know."

Gabriel took a bracing sigh, and Sam reached for his hand on the bed. Gabriel moved it before he got there, but the other hand was stroking his hair. Sam settled for putting his hand on Gabriel's ribs, near his head, mindlessly tracing the tattoo there.

"I'm old, Sam. But, Michael was older. A lot older than me... actually, you're, what? 23? I guess, actually, he was about my age when I was around yours. History, huh? It repeats itself or, whatever. That bitch will fuck you up every time." Gabriel was still petting him but Sam could feel his other hand picking at the sheets restlessly.

"Gabriel."Sam interrupted. Gabriel seemed a little relieved, actually. "There is a balcony. If... you needed a cigarette."

Gabriel did, so he gathered his clothes, his oil stained work pants and the white shirt he wore under it, with greasy fingerprints along the hem. By the time that Sam had pulled his pants up, Gabriel was already leaning over the iron fence of the balcony—really just a window with an ego- a cigarette already pursed in his lips. He didn't look over at Sam when Sam stood next to him.

"Thanks," Gabriel said, minding to blow the smoke away from him.

"So. His name was Michael."

"His name was Michael and I fell for him. Pretty hard, actually. He was an old school gay. See, by the time that I was old enough, I'd missed it all. Stonewall. Harvey Milk. The golden age of the Castro in San Francisco. But not Michael. He'd watched it all happen before his eyes. 'Course, that only drove him further into the closet than before.

"Watch out for closet cases, kid. Those people will fuck you up, every time." Gabriel repeated himself, wagging the cigarette pinched between his fingers to emphasize his point.

"Anyway. Michael. I saw him and... I wanted him. I was about nineteen when I started working for him and from ten minutes into our interview, I was trying to seduce him. Big, married 'straight man' air quotes and all, with a kid and a 'reputation' -more air quotes.

"We played cat and mouse for about a year before I got him drunk enough on his birthday. Kissed him like I would die if I didn't. Touched him like I wanted to change his life. And I did, kid. Damn, did I want to change that man's life.

"And I guess that was how it started. I'm an American boy and I knew that if I worked hard and put my mind to it, I could achieve my dream. And at first I was ecstatic. Because I had him. From six to eleven at night, I had him and he had me and we fucked pretty hard, all the time. I loved him. I was nineteen and so in love I couldn't see straight."

"What happened?"

"Well. I grew up. When you're nineteen, love seems so obvious. You want someone, they want you. The rest is just things to be sorted out, what matters is the love. But, that's not enough. He... was _really_ in the closet. Like, cruising at the men's health center and punching the guy with his buddies in a good old fashioned queer bashing later. He wouldn't leave his wife and he wouldn't even _look _at me when we were outside the kitchen or when someone else was around. And I got... I got a little crazy. Started calling his house. Kept.. kept making sure I was out where he might run into me. His gym. His bar. The grocery store where his wife shopped. It was, bad. But I was twenty one and I loved him and I didn't get _why_ he was with her. I didn't get why I wasn't enough.

"Then he told me at work one night. He and his wife were arguing and I hated it when he talked about her but I loved that he came to _me_ to complain about her. Like... like I was the one who understood him. It was better than nothing.

"She wanted another kid and he just... he couldn't. He couldn't do it and then I found out... he was sick. He was an old school gay and he contracted HIV about six years before he met me. Before they knew what to look for. Back when being a gay man meant mostly cruising. I mean, he and I always used protection but, I always used protection with all my partners, so I didn't think about it. But, obviously he couldn't have another kid with his wife when he might give it to them both

"And then his treatment stopped working. Happens sometimes, even today. He got lymphoma, its like a blood cancer, and that was... that was what did it. I wasn't allowed to visit him, he asked me not to and when I tried... his son wouldn't let me in. He knew what his Dad had and he knew I was gay and he guessed. He hated me so much, I think he still thinks I gave it to him. Thinks I some dirty whore home wrecker. And, I mean, I didn't have an STD but the rest is true enough. I did want him to leave his wife, even after I knew he was sick. Hell. _Especially_ after I knew he was sick. She couldn't understand him like I did. She would always hate him for not giving her a baby. I didn't want a baby. Just wanted him.

"And... he died. In his sleep, I heard from a nurse that felt sorry for me. She was a dyke, so she got it. I knew that his son would fire me soon as he got a chance and so I packed up my stuff and... gave it to goodwill.

"Didn't see much point in having anything if I didn't have him. Didn't see a point in working if I didn't get to see him. Didn't see a point in living... it was a dark time, kiddo."

"You're cigarette is out." Sam muttered.

Gabriel looked down at the smoking butt in his hand and shrugged. Kicking it under his non-slip shoe. Trying for nonchalance but his eyes were glazed over and Sam recognized the face as the one that looked back at him in the mirror.

It was the get-on-with-your-life face that everyone eventually adopted when they ran out of money to support their full time mourning or simply got tired of feeling empty. Sam didn't think Gabriel would receive a hug well, so Sam placed his palm on the balcony beside Gabriel's, scooting his hand so that his pinky was touching Gabriel's. Gabriel pulled his hand away and patted his pockets for another cigarette.

* * *

"So. Are you going to go?" Sam asked Gabriel as the chef started looking around the floor of the bedroom for his coat.

"Yeah, look, sorry. I'm all out of sorts. I don't know why I came here... I don't know what I was expecting. I don't know why I told you all that but... now..."

"I'm glad you came over." Sam said, still naked and picking absently at the stains on his bedsheets. "I'm glad you talked to me. Told me about him. I'm sorry, Gabriel. I'm so sorry for your loss."

"You know, you're the only person who's ever told me that?" Gabriel asked, hands stilling as he zipped his coat. "No one at work knew we were together and his family... Well, Zachariah practically thinks I killed him same as if I shot him. No one told me they were sorry for my loss. Anna started around that time. She knew _something_ was wrong with me, but she didn't know what to apologize for. No one ever let me tell them and then told me they were sorry."

"Wait... Zachariah?" Sam asked, standing from where he was sitting on the bed. "_Zachariah_? So, this Michael guy was... Michael _Angelo_? You were dating the owner?"

"Dating is a pretty generous term for hand jobs in his car after work. But, yeah. Yeah. I loved him something stupid."

"And... you stayed? Even when Zachariah...?"

"Oh, Zachariah would have _loved_ to have fired me, but when he died, Michael made me manager until I saw fit to leave or there was this huge severance that his son would have to pay me. Told his lawyer that it was because we were old friends and his son was too young and hard headed, I was supposed to stay on as an advisor, keep Zachariah from running the place into the ground. And I thought... I never got to say goodbye, you know? I thought it was Michael's way of asking me something, a dying man's wish to keep his restaurant from going up in smoke. But I was so young then, and stupid. He gave it to me because he pitied me. Didn't want me to lose my job."

"Gabriel, he gave it to you because you're amazing at your job." Sam said, stepping forward towards Gabriel even though every part of the older man's body language was telling him to back the fuck off. "That place is going to burn to the ground without you."

"I've given up so much for him. My childhood. My dignity. I can't stay there, Sam. I can't keep obeying the wishes of a man who died. I loved him, but I'm old enough now to know that he didn't love me back- No, this isn't that thing where you reassure me that he loved me and that I'm beautiful just the way I am or something. No, he didn't love me. He cared about me. He pitied me.

"And I'm just starting to realize that I might have wasted my best years catering to a ghost who never even cared enough to write me a letter, just left a footnote for a lawyer to read when it was over.

"He'd never have asked me to stay there if he really loved me. He'd have never left me alone with Zachariah."

"He was an idiot if he never loved you." Sam said, close enough to touch but not reaching out. "Anyone would be an idiot if they didn't love you."

"World's full of idiots, then."

"That's been my experience."

"Jesus, kid. You're just a kid."

"You keep saying."

"I'm going to... I can't." Gabriel said, jerking his gaze away from Sam's face and towards the door across the hall. "I'm sorry. I can't be here right now. Need some time alone for a bit. Process these feelings, or whatever. I'll see you at work tomorrow."

"Ok, yeah. Goodnight." but Gabriel was already halfway across the apartment. He paused with his hand on the doorknob.

"Thanks. Sam." he said, but was out the door before Sam could say anything back.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam did see Gabriel at work the next day and the one after that and the one after that.

The problem was that Gabriel was avoiding him as much as was possible in the tiny kitchen. Sam could easily touch both the back counter and the prep station opposite sides of the kitchen at once and yet Gabriel managed to evade him, not make eye contact and slip, undetected, past Sam at the end of his shift. Zachariah had given Sam his own key to close up and apparently that meant that Gabriel could vanish whenever he pleased. And, it turned out, Gabriel wanted to leave the minute that the dinner rush ended but before Sam could take a breath and ask him 'what the _fuck,_ man?'

No, Sam hadn't exactly expected chocolates and flowers or even any sort of explicit recognition that he and Gabriel had sex. He didn't need a swooping, passionate kiss but some sort of tenderness like he'd shown the night he took that particular type of Sam's virginity would have been nice. But, no, Gabriel was still Gabriel; sneering at Zachariah, right to his face, commiserating with Meg over particularly annoying customers and nodding sympathetically to Anna as she told him about her boyfriend and their latest fight.

Sam started to doubt that anyone besides he and Zachariah knew that Gabriel was going to be leaving for good. Sam didn't expect much from Meg or Ruby but Anna, at least, he'd assume would be more sympathetic than she was acting towards him.

When Gabriel had let slip that he hadn't told anyone about him and Michael, Sam assumed that meant that he didn't tell his friends. Sam knew what it was like to not tell certain people the whole story because it looked bad and was hopeless and dark. Sam didn't talk about Dean to everyone for the same reason. Just because it was the only thing Sam thought about didn't meant that other people had to think about it too.

But as Gabriel's evasion went largely unnoticed by the Angelo staff, Sam couldn't help but wonder if Gabriel told anyone anything at all. Surely, _one _person in the whole restaurant knew. One person besides Zachariah, at least, that the love of Gabriel's life had been between its walls and lived and breathed its air. It was too much for one person to carry alone, with out stumbling or being crushed under the weight of it all. This huge secret, the kind to define a person's whole life, and no seemed to even know that it even happened. Left a man to wonder; if a whole epic love story unfolds, and no one besides the lovers ever know it, does it even really exist?

Then Sam came to the gut wrenching conclusion that maybe he Gabriel's one person.

He was so not equipped to deal with that.

Gabriel vanished again on the last night he was scheduled, perhaps to take a cigarette break or maybe he was just hiding out somewhere, doing some banal task to keep busy far away from Sam. Sam hadn't caught him in the act- probably the point of the act altogether- but suddenly the spices were alphabetized and all the pans were arranged by size, completely at odds with the sort of organized chaos that Sam had met when he first walked in.

Sam was piling dishes in the sink when Anna marched into the kitchen, her eyes shining with tears. She looked hopelessly around the kitchen, obviously looking for Gabriel.

Well, that made two of them.

She seemed to decide that Sam would do in a pinch, throwing down a plate of untouched food on the prep station.

"Sam, I fucked up, this lady is _allergic _to shellfish and I accidentally wrote her down for the lobster ravioli when she said linguine and now she's freaking out and-"

"ANNA." Zachariah roared as he walked into the kitchen. "Anna Milton I swear, I warned you, didn't I? I warned you that this was your last chance. You show up late and you-"

"Mr. Angelo," Sam eased in. Zachariah straightened his back, like Sam thought he might, preening just a little at his father's title. Sam pressed on, "That was my mistake. I confused her order with someone else's. I read the order slip out of line. Linguine, right here. Please don't yell at Anna, I'm the one who can't read properly." Sam tried for a deprecating smile that didn't take as well as the title thing.

Zachariah narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"I expected better from you." he said coldly. "There are plenty of better chefs out there. I took a chance on you, Sam. I'm starting to regret it."

"Understood." Sam said with a nod, "Sir."

Zachariah's nostrils flared, but he left without further comment. Anna just looked at Sam warily, mouthing, 'thanks' before heading out to the floor.

When Sam turned around to prepare the order, though, he saw Gabriel's back, hunched over the counter, preparing the linguine faster than Sam had ever seen him do it.

"Oh, thanks, Gabriel." Sam said, but Gabriel ignored him, like he had been all day, before placing the order on the counter for Anna to pick up when she passed through.

Sam refused to look away from Gabriel, knowing that the rush was over and it might be the las time he ever saw him, if he kept his new habit of disappearing before closing was though. Sam needed to say goodbye. Someone needed to say something to him.

Wordlessly, Gabriel grabbed Sam's coat sleeve and dragged him to towards the bathroom. Sam didn't even have time to question it before Gabriel was locking the door behind them and dropping to his knees.

Sam moaned softly and threw his head back against the tiled wall as Gabriel went down on him, a hand fisted lazily in Gabriel's hair.

He glanced toward the door, and the kitchen where he wondered what Anna would think when she saw her order but no chef in sight. He almost wished that Zachariah decided to use the restroom, that Gabriel had forgotten to lock the door, that he would walk in and see them, touching and rubbing together, on their knees for each other.

Sam wasn't an exhibitionist. He didn't get off just because people were watching.

He wanted a scandal and rumors and gossip around them. He wanted to see Zachariah get mad and fire him on the spot.

It was an insane thought, flitting through his mind too fast to keep track of. Sam needed this job, needed the money from it and Gabriel was such a private person, it'd be cruel to make him suffer though that many people knowing his business, his most intimate parts of himself, up for discussion.

No, that thought was rooted in something so much more selfish than attention. He wanted some sort of permanent consequence for this. He wanted anything permanent from this at all.

Because in two days, Gabriel would be gone. Sam would go to school and they'd never see each other again.

And Sam wasn't done yet. Someone needed to say something, otherwise it'd be like nothing had ever happened. If two men fall apart and the pieces that remain mash together to create something new, but no one sees, did it even really happen?

Gabriel worked Sam's cock until he came, spitting it out into the sink after. Gabriel folded his body over the sink, facing the mirror and away from Sam, his hand disappearing down his pants as he started jerking himself furiously. Sam stepped behind him, burrowing his face into Gabriel's neck as he slipped his hand down his pants, the other up his shirt, touching and rubbing Gabriel with half-minded finesse until Gabriel was stuttering, braced on the sink and coming all over Sam's fist.

Sam was still wiping his hand clean before Gabriel was slipping out of the bathroom.

He wasn't in the kitchen for the rest of his shift.

* * *

Sam mopped the floor and was disappointed that Gabriel wasn't smoking a cigarette outside the door when Sam dumped the water. Sam felt as used and dirty as the contents of the bucket as they poured down the alleyway, but at least it was something new to feel. Any emotion, even the bad ones, were better than... Dean... and now Sam was crying again.

He walked into the kitchen to grab his coat before he left when he saw Gabriel in the office. He stopped short as Gabriel turned to look at him, his shoulders dropping when he saw Sam's teary eyes.

"Oh, kiddo." he murmured, taking one step forward as Sam took three steps towards him, pulling him up into a kiss that Gabriel clearly wasn't expecting.

"Gabriel." Sam whimpered against Gabriel taut mouth. Gabriel didn't kiss him back, but he did run a hand through Sam's hair, pulling up at the ends, making his hair stand in odd direction. Gabriel smiled sadly at the effect.

"Those for me?" Gabriel asked in a light voice as he ran a finger over Sam's tear tracked cheeks. Sam shook his head 'no' and Gabriel didn't seem surprised. "Your brother?" Gabriel guessed and Sam nodded. "You ever talk about it? You should try it out. I did recently. Did wonders, really it did."

Sam laughed, a wet, weird sound mixed with his tears.

"Yeah, I talk about it. Talk about it all the time. To therapists. Specialists. Counsellors. Insurance lawyers. Police. Even a pastor, but he's an old family friend, more a sympathetic ear than spiritual guidance." Sam shook his head. "Dean'd be so mad if he ended up in heaven. Always said the party in Hell'd be a thousand times better. Probably didn't think he'd be testing that theory so soon."

"Dean? He already sounds like my kind of guy."

"Yeah. Yeah, you'd like him. Everyone liked him. Such a cool man. Best big brother in the world."

"You said insurance lawyers. Was there an accident?" Gabriel asked gently. Sam didn't realize that he was being guided into Zachariah's office until Gabriel was pushing the tops of his shoulders into the worn swivel chair. Gabriel perched himself on the desk, and Sam had to angle his head up to see him clearly.

"Yeah. He and I used to go camping when we were teenagers. And, now, we had different definitions of camping. See, I liked to hike and run in the mountains and Dean just saw it as an excuse to drink beer and fish. Same as our Dad. Camping used to be something we all did together, us and our old man. It was the only time Dad and I weren't at each other's throats.

"Well, about a year ago, we were up in the mountains, just the two of us that time and I had been taunting him. Just... brother stuff. Stuff we hadn't done since we were kids. I had been away at college and it was the first weekend together in a while and we were just bullshitting. I dared him that he couldn't keep up with me on a hike and he took the bait, like I knew he would and we were just kind of messing around when he slipped.

"I should have seen... idiot was wearing biker boots. Not enough traction, and he fell down the side of the mountain. Fucking... it was getting dark and nobody was around and I knew I wasn't supposed to move him but I was afraid that if I went and got help, I wouldn't be able to find him again and he was... in and out. Told me he couldn't feel his legs and so I carried him to the car, three miles and I was shaking the whole way. He was my big brother, always seemed indestructible and he was limp in my arms. I couldn't stop thinking that he carried me like this once, I can carry him.

"And I just drove his car, damn he loved that car, as fast as I could to the city. He was in the back seat and he kept twitching, like he might hurl and I was afraid that he had a concussion.

"I was looking back at him when I saw the headlights on his face. I had swerved into oncoming traffic cause I wasn't watching the damn road and I overcorrected and... lost control of the car. Hit a tree. Wrapped his car- he _loved _that car- around it. The other driver saw. Called an ambulance but Dean was... he was dead when they got there. Autopsy said it was the impact of the hit that snapped his spine. He would have _lived_ if I hadn't... so really, Dean'd be alive if I just..."

"Stop, right now." Gabriel said sharply. Sam did, his shaking breath catching in his throat. "That's a dangerous road to go down, Sam. So don't do it. Things happen. People panic."

"Dean wouldn't have panicked."

"You can't possibly know that."

"Dean was the best big brother in the world. He was the better son... what was he thinking, leaving me and Dad alone? We're going to kill each other one day."

"What does your Dad have to say about it?"

"Not much. He doesn't blame me. Once he said that he was lucky I wasn't hurt too. And that's just... it's too much for me. I couldn't keep living with him, I mean, it's weird without Dean there. Dad's too nice. We used to fight about everything and now we're just so polite, like strangers. Sometimes I feel like I lost both of them that day. And, that's just the worst thing, right? Isn't death supposed to bring people together? I can't see Dad and that house and not have Dean there too. I know he feels the same way, that's why he isn't making a fuss about me going back to school, about me moving away. He did the first time, and it was Dean who talked him out of it. And now Dean is... gone. He was too loud when he was alive and now it's too quiet when he's gone.

"I couldn't go back to school at first. I told everyone that I needed to stay at home for a while, but, really, I couldn't be around normal people. Pretend to be normal, go to class and work. Have a real conversation. I had a girlfriend and I broke up with her. She wanted to help me through it, wanted to be my support or something, but all along, deep down, we both knew that I always loved her just a little more. And it wasn't a big deal until now. She's twenty. What twenty year old can handle this if they don't have to?

"He was my... my best friend. Only person I had in the world for a while there, during high school. Don't know what I am without him."

"I do." Gabriel said. Sam looked up, and Gabriel's eyes were watering to match his own. "I've only ever known you without him. You're kind of hard to read. A bit impulsive. Completely unpredictable. One of the smartest people I've ever met with the biggest heart."

"You'd have loved Dean." Sam said, looking at his hands. Gabriel leaned forward and kiss his hairline.

"You'd have liked Michael. He was spineless where it mattered, but he was a fair man." Gabriel muttered. "Getting my last paycheck." he said after a beat of silence where Sam's hands took the opportunity to make themselves at home in the back of Gabriel's pants, wedging themselves into his pockets.

"So, this is it, then?" Sam said, pulling Gabriel closer, so that he was practically on his lap.

"Looks like it, kid." Gabriel said, looking around the office and kitchen where he'd worked for almost fifteen years. "God, this place. The worst and best memories of my life in here. That's so... _pathetic._ Spent fifteen years waiting for the ghost of a man who never even loved me that much. I need to move on so badly, they need a new word for it."

"You'll find work." Sam assured him. Gabriel smiled.

"I know it. You know, kid. People say the craziest things. They say that life is short and, you and I know that better than anyone, but life is also long enough that you're never too old for a fresh start."

"So," Sam said, pulling Gabriel closer to him. "This is kind of like... goodbye."

"Yeah. Yeah, it is. I wanted to think of something clever to do to mess up Zachariah's office before I go." Gabriel cast around the tiny room again, even as Sam started tracing circles into the thighs of his jeans.

Sam unbuttoned the top button of Gabriel's pants.

"I have an idea." Sam said. Gabriel's smile was the definition of depravity.

And the best part was, Zachariah never figured out why all of the papers on his desk stuck together like the pages of a teenage boy's first skin magazine the next morning.

* * *

"Will I ever see you again?" Sam asked as he and Gabriel locked the back door, standing at the mouth of the alley, where they would fork off in different directions.

"Maybe. Probably not. Here, take my number. Call me when this place goes up in smoke and I might be able to help get you a job wherever I end up."

"Gabriel-" Sam said, but faltered.

How would he ever describe Gabriel to anyone else? The man more broken than he was? The guy who gave him everything? The best, gayest, night of his whole life?

The strongest person Sam may ever know? Well, second strongest. Dean was the strongest, but he felt like his brother wouldn't mind Gabriel being a very close runner up.

"I can't fix you, kiddo." Gabriel said softly. Sam wiped his eyes, he wasn't _done. "_I can't fix you. No one can but you. Lonely and depressing as shit, but we just got to tough it out. Cause what's the alternative? I waited too long to fix myself. Too busy chasing ghosts. Don't be like me, Sam. Set your goals higher than _me._"

"I wanted to help. I still want to help you. You're... you're awesome, Gabriel. Better than they treated you. Both of them. I wish you didn't hate yourself so much. It's a waste."

"Me hating myself isn't your problem." Gabriel said.

And so they said goodbye in the wet alleyway, near dumpsters that smelled like hot trash. Gabriel waved his hand in mock salute as he headed left. Sam returned it as he headed right.

Two broken men met and rubbed their jagged edges up against each other. No one saw, an no one fixed them, because they could really only fix themselves. It hurt. And it sucked. And Sam knew that tomorrow was going to be shit without Gabriel beside him. But Gabriel had figured out a way to put himself together, and seeing that was all the help Sam could ask him for.

He was about ten feet away when he heard Gabriel call his name. He turned, seeing him standing by his old Honda, keys in one hand.

"I think we're going to be ok, kiddo." Gabriel half called to him.

Sam let out a small laugh and nodded, giving a final wave. Gabriel smiled, like Sam hadn't seen him smile except in his bedroom, in his arms. Like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Like a ghost had been exorcised.

Gabriel was going to be ok.

They were going to be ok.


End file.
